The man in front of me
by wicked howl
Summary: A young Danish man, in the heart of Norway, tries to find the right way to speak to the barista at his local coffee shop. Norway/Denmark.
1. Chapter 1

OK, this was ridiculous. The most stupid thing he had done in his life. Why was he doing this? He was going to get turned down, no two ways about it. He didn't have a chance.

He walked through the doors to the local coffee shop, an intense wave of coffee and sweet pastry-scented air hitting his nose before the bell had even rung above the door. God, if there was any scent that would stick in his mind forever it was the mellow smell of freshly brewed coffee. He had an inkling that _he _would smell like coffee as well, but he had never dared get close enough to find out.

Slowly, he walked up to the counter, saying a silent prayer that someone else was on shift, but also hoping that _he _was there too. He gazed at the large display of sweet things in a large glass case- Pastries, turnovers, small tarts- all with a gorgeous sheen and golden colour, their smell so enticing he practically drooled. Looking across, he snapped out of his daze. Crap- he had been standing there like an idiot whilst _he _was waiting for him to say something!

"Are you ready to order now, sir?" A small smirk flickered across the face of the man in front of him. Lord, he was pretty, with his blonde hair shimmering under the warm glow of the light fixtures in the coffee, sharp blue eyes holding a teasing sparkle, alabaster skin perfect and unmarked. Wait- he was getting distracted again, damn it!

"Oh, yes, thank you, Can I ha- May I have a large coffee, and an apple turnover, please?" Damn, he was stuttering, fumbling his way through that sentence as though his mind was shrouded in fog. He _really _hoped the man in front of him wouldn't notice.

"Of course, if you'd like to wait for a few minutes, and your order will be with you." He turned to work the coffee machine behind him, and the Danish man caught a hint of his cologne- Strong, masculine, and musky, yet still fresh and sharp- like the air when you wake up earlier than you planned and go and sit on the front porch before the sun rises, that crisp, clean smell of the world before its truly awake. Ah, he could fantasise about a life like that with the man in front of him, buying a little house somewhere secluded, just the two of them, maybe a dog or two. Or would he be a cat person? Did he prefer the hustle and bustle of the city? He realised he knew nothing about the man in front of him, not even his name-

"Here you are, will that be all?" Damn! He was loosing track of the number of times the man in front of him had snapped him out of daydreaming _about _him.

"Yes, plea- Thank you, that's all, thank you"

"all right, that'll be £3.50-"

"wait! Something else! C- can I have your number?" There. He said it, god, he was going to be embaressed in front of the entire shop, he could see a pair of little old ladies sitting with their tea in the corner of the shop starting to titter, a group of school girls 'aww'ing and blushing at the scene in front of them. HE shouldn't have done that, he was going to get turned down, he was never going to be able to come here and see him again, just because he couldn't keep his mouth shut-

"£3.50 sir, please."

Damn, _damn, _that meant he was turned down, the man in front of him had a face as blank as stone, giving away no emotion at all.

He looked down as he handed the money across, and when his receipt and change was handed back, he grabbed it, along with his coffee before hurrying out of the shop, with a muttered 'thanks'.

Only when he got outside, about to throw the receipt in the bin, did he see the number scrawled across the receipt, along with the words. "We should go out some time – Erik."


	2. Chapter 2- Plucking up the courage

Well.

That went better than he expected, much, _much_ better. He was turned down! He swore he was, he swore that he had been offered nought but strait-up rejection from the blonde. _Eric, his name is Eric! _He mentally berated himself, how on earth could he forget that the man he had been swooning over for weeks _actually _wanted a date with him! Well, maybe not a date, but further conversation was most definitely a possibility, maybe even a probability! The words on his receipt swirled around his brain "_we should go out some time_" God, the thought of it makes him happier than anything, and, content that the planets were in alignment and everything was right in the world, he set off, paper cup in hand, and precious, precious receipt stowed safely into the pocket of his jacket.

He spent the rest of the day surreptitiously patting down his pocket, listening and feeling for a light crinkle, before chickening out of calling. Maybe just a text, to say hi? Or to profess his undying love? No! He barely knew the man, and the man barely knew him! Didn't even know his name, and once again, he was planning out a life with him (small private marriage ceremony, a small apartment, and once they both had stable jobs, and little house in the mountains with a few dogs- he still didn't know if he was a cat person!) No, he would wait. Wait, see what happened next time they saw each other, and take it slow. With a nod to himself, he took his hand away from his pocket, and carried on with his

day.

The next time he worked up the nerve to go back to Eric's' coffee shop, as he had taken to calling it, three days had passed. He hadn't managed to work up the nerve to call or text, and couldn't help feeling that the longer he left it, the less chance he had. What if Eric thought he wasn't interested after all? That he had just been playing a cruel prank to humiliate the barista? Of course he hadn't, but Eric wasn't to know that! With a deep breath, he pushed open the door, bell jangling overhead, before taking in his surroundings. The shop was virtually empty- a few businessmen at tables, Americanos in their hands, and the morning paper stretched across the table before them. An elderly couple sat opposite each other in a secluded corner, chatting quietly to themselves. _Aww, how sweet! I'd like to be like that when I get older_\- once again, he found himself mentally telling himself off for getting distracted, a seemingly common occurrence now. He took a second steadying breath before walking up to the counter.

Lady luck must not be on his side today, because, of course, it was Eric's shift. Of course it was, it couldn't be anyone else's could it? The bitter thought soon passed as he caught sight of the slight smirk and single raised eyebrow of the barista.

"Ah, Mr Daydreamer, how nice of you to show up." Eric grinned slightly, showing two rows of perfect pearly whites. "I was beginning to think you had forgotten me"

"Forgotten you? How could I forget someone as perfect as you?!" He blurted in reply. _Nice job with the keeping it cool, genius_, came his ever-annoying thoughts. "By which I mean, so, so perfect at your job! Yeah, that's it, no one makes coffee like you do" He chuckled nervously, hoping his faux pas had gone unnoticed. The quiet laugh he got in reply clearly meant that it had not. _Whoa, even his laugh is pretty. Pretty, and manly, how about that?_

"How sweet of you to say, are you ready to order?" Eric changed the topic with ease, showing ever-apparent prowess at his job.

"Oh, right, yeah, a small latte please" He shook himself out of his thoughts. Before flashing a winning smile in Eric's' direction.

"Right away, and anything else?"

"The time of your break?"

This earned a full, wholehearted laugh from Eric. The kind that bubbles up from the bottom of your tummy before spilling out, always louder than planned. Eric turned around, adding milk to the coffee cup before clipping a lid on it and turning back around.

"I finish for the day in twenty minutes"

"If I wait, will that still be your answer?"

"If you wait, I'll grab my coat and we can go out somewhere" and with that, Eric sidestepped to accept the bill from the elderly couple, who were just putting their hats and scarves on. With a call of "have a good day!" Eric waved them out, and walked into the back.

_Did I just get myself a date? I just got myself a date! _He hadn't been this happy in a long while, and sat nursing his coffee until the cup was empty.

A Half-hour later, Eric emerged from the back, muffled up with a thick woollen scarf and navy coat.

"So, where do you want to go?" Eric asked as he headed to the door, falling into step with him.

"ah, I hadn't thought I'd get this far… want to go grab a coffee?"


	3. Chapter 3

_Hello Lovelies! Sorry this chapter is so short, I had a natural break :D Jessio, thank you for leaving a review! The story is still in progress, my mind just runs super duper slow (hence the year and a half between updates) I'm glad you like it! _

_If you have any ideas about how the story should progress, please let me know!_

* * *

_Grab a coffee? Grab a COFFEE?! Have you lost your mind?! _It was likely he had, because a situation like this couldn't possibly be cooked up in the real world, that was for sure.

Meanwhile, Eric just stood their, a small grin playing on his lips. "Coffee? At _this _time of day? Maybe dinner instead?" His sharp eyes were fixed on him, leading to him sputtering.

_He let it slide! This guy truly is an angel_.

"Dinner sounds nice! I know a great little place about 5 minutes from here, has the best steamed salmon in the world" A grin spread across his face like a spring blossom.

"Sounds lovely. Please lead the way, Mr. Daydreamer".

_Mr daydreamer? My god, has my head been so far into the clouds I haven't even told him my name?!_

"Sigurd. It's Sigurd, my name, that is"

"Sigurd? Lovely, very heroic"

Sigurd thanked him before holding out his arm. "Shall we?"

Eric linked his arm with Sigurds, before replying.

"We shall"


End file.
